Guardian of Order
by beege
Summary: When he died, Kenshin believed that he would finally know peace. But when a god visits him in the afterlife with a request that Kenshin cannot refuse he finds that his duties as a samurai are not quite complete . . .
1. Chapter 1

The warrior turned wanderer sat on the stony shore and stared listlessly into the pool's clear depths. Time was entirely subjective here, and matter subject to the whims of the mind, so perhaps it was not too surprising that the body of saltwater into which he gazed was composed entirely of his own tears. Behind him the smooth, hard stones stretched out endlessly towards a horizon that the eye could not quite focus on, though the figure who sat before the pool was unaware of this. He had little interest in his surroundings.

An indeterminate distance behind him stood a second figure, an ascetically handsome young man whose long mane of black hair was tied into a warrior's queue, his lean form suggestive of strength and grace. Like the other, his appearance was representative of far more than his corporeal form. Slung over one shoulder was a long, leather wrapped bundle. The casual way in which he handled the package belied its value. A frown creased his fine features as he looked the first man over. The shabby gi, faded from a once-proud red to dull purple and the frequently patched, off white hakama were no surprise. Neither were the leprous sores that covered most of the man's body. Far more worrisome was the cross shaped scar that adorned the man's cheek. It was symbolic of a part of the man's nature that was supposed to have been left behind in death. It did not speak well of his state of mind that he had chosen to retain it, regardless of the fact that the decision had not been a conscious one.

"And yet," the young man sighed to himself "it is not so surprising. It may even be necessary, though one should hope that it does not come to that."

Adjusting his grip on the parcel he carried, Ida-ten set out towards his chosen avatar, the man who in this place and time was known only as Shinta.

Guardian of Order

A Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction

Chapter One

Megumi frowned as she looked over to the futon where her oldest friend lay sleeping. Kaoru's tuberculosis had worsened severely in the weeks after Kenshin's death and Megumi did not expect her to last too much longer. The life had literally gone out of her when her husband had died. Some may have called it romantic, after a fashion. Megumi just considered it a waste.

"You were a little selfish, Kaoru-chan." Megumi whispered as she knelt over Kaoru to change the cold compress on her forehead.

"Kenji may think he's a man, but he's hardly finished growing up. He needs you in his life."

Megumi recoiled slightly as Kaoru's eyes suddenly blinked open. A weary smile curved across her lips as she looked up at Megumi.

"I wouldn't have been much use to him Megumi-chan, sick or not."

Kaoru indicated her prostrate form with a faint tilt of her chin.

"If it wasn't this, it would have been something else. You should never outlive the person you love the most, Megumi. Remember that."

With those words Kaoru sleepily closed her eyes, falling unconscious within moments. The illness drained her of strength to the point that she was rarely conscious for more than a few minutes at a time. In her darker moments Megumi wondered why Kaoru was still clinging to the life she had been so willing to give up.

In the aftermath of recent events Megumi had moved into Kaoru's home to keep a closer eye on her. It was a wretched duty, but Megumi felt she owed it to the woman who'd been her only real female friend for more than twenty years. She watched her old friend slip slowly away by day and was plagued by bittersweet memories all night.

Teasing Kaoru and Kenshin - Sano too, for that matter - by hugging her 'Ken-san' whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Seeing the two marry.

Delivering Kenji.

Years of friendly conversation and meals at the Akabeko and gently ribbing Kaoru about her cooking, which had never quite achieved the distinction of being edible.

Years of mutual sympathy about the men in their lives, or rather the absence of them.

That last thought made Megumi twitch. The idea that there could be anything good about this whole situation made her sick with guilt, but she couldn't help being grateful that Sano had returned. The rooster had shown up in time for Kenshin's funeral (how he'd heard of it Megumi had no idea), a single spot of good fortune on the bleakest of days. And now, thought Megumi, he was sleeping at her surgery - 'keeping an eye on it' rather than freeloading according to him - while she kept watch over Kaoru. Sano had changed greatly from Megumi's memories of him. He was as rough edged as ever, but somehow more mature than he had been. Years of travelling had taught him a little about life, it seemed, and his strong, supportive presence had been a source of considerable comfort. In spite of everything Megumi couldn't help smiling, just a little, at the thought.

"Hello, Shinta-san."

Shinta looked up in surprise as the young man sat down beside him, so startled that he nearly let out his customary "Ara!" But even the shock he felt at meeting another soul in what he had assumed to be a solitary afterlife was not quite sufficient to summon up that old mannerism in the face of his current grief. That the newcomer knew his true name did not quite register with him.

"Do you not believe you have atoned for your sins?" the young man asked him, apropos of nothing.

Shinta looked over at him, his disbelief mounting. He had no idea where he'd ended up, but once he'd arrived he certainly hadn't expected to have company. That the company in question should immediately start prying into his personal life was just annoying.

"What business is it of yours?"

The young man favoured him with an enigmatic smile and for a moment Shinta could have sworn that he was sitting next to an older Seta Soujiro. He was even dressed a little like Soujiro, Shinta realised, though the colours were reversed, for his gi was white and his hakama deep blue. He wore black tabi on his feet, black leather swordsman's gloves that had seen plenty of use and a grey sash around his waist completed the ensemble. On the ground next to him lay a leather wrapped bundle whose shape Shinta recognized, but he forbore to mention it. Perhaps if he made his disinterest clear enough this annoying stranger would return to whatever place from which he had come. His strange resemblance to the tenken faded with the young man's smile as his expression shifted to one of relaxed but thorough scrutiny.

"More than you might think, my friend. Your concerns are mine as well, and mine are yours, though you do not yet realize it."

"This is ridiculous. Leave me in peace."

Shinta resolutely turned his gaze away from the stranger and back towards the pool.

"I won't go away just because you ignore me, Shinta-san" the young man continued in the same calm, pleasant voice he'd employed since his arrival.

"I have far too much to discuss with you to leave just because you wish to brood in peace."

Shinta snorted. "How else should I pass my time now?"

The other man did not immediately respond and after a few minutes Shinta began to hope that if he wasn't going to leave he would at least be quiet. That hope proved to be forlorn.

"There's a reason it's so large, you know."

Shinta did not respond.

"The pool in front of us, that is. Even if you're not concerned with its size, surely you've wondered why it's here?"

The young man sighed in equal parts frustration and sympathy at Shinta's studied apathy.

"Do you even know where you are, Shinta?" he asked, letting a trace of annoyance creep into his voice for the first time.

At this Shinta looked up in genuine curiosity, for the comment suggested that there was more to his unwanted companion than first met the eye. After a moment, however, he looked back towards the pool, his expression suggesting stubbornness.

"I'll continue as though you'd actually responded to my question. You need to hear this."

The young man paused for a moment, as though collecting his thoughts.

"Not everyone goes to heaven or hell when they die. There are many reasons for this. Some can't leave their old lives behind and choose to cling to the earth, becoming ghosts. There are others who do not wish to move on by themselves and these poor souls wait in limbo, sometimes for all eternity, in hopes of rejoining those they knew in life."

Ida-ten felt Shinta's eyes upon him now, but decided to keep his smile to himself. His chosen avatar would not appreciate any sign of humour from him at this juncture.

"Now you, Shinta-san, pose something of a problem. You were forgiven your sins when you died, did you know that?"

This time Shinta could not restrain himself. After nearly tipping over in shock he rose to his feet and unleashed his frustration.

"Who are you and what the hell are you doing here!? After the life I've had don't I at least deserve to be left in peace?"

"You deserve much more than that, Shinta turned Kenshin turned Battousai turned Wanderer - turned Shinta again. The problem is you won't accept it."

As Shinta's mouth fell open in shock Ida-ten was unable to again restrain the urge to smile. Shaking the warrior out of his fugue was not the most difficult task set before him, but it was the most uncertain. To have accomplished it was a weight off his mind - and he had best seize his advantage. Ida-ten stood to face Shinta and continued speaking.

"Yes, I know who you are, Shinta-san. And now that I have revealed that knowledge it would be rude not to introduce myself."

With a deep, respectful bow that somehow contained a trace of humour the young man did so.

"My name is Ida-ten, Shinta-san. I see from your expression that you recognise it."

Sano smirked as he watched Kenji bid goodbye to his young lady friend. It reminded him of something that gaijin he'd met in China had said, a quotation from one of the many books he carted around with him 'In the midst of death, is life.' Sano's smile faded even as it was born, his good humour fleeting. In the midst of death was right, he reflected. He'd come to sit with Kaoru while Megumi took a couple of hours to call on some of her other patients and the state of his old friend's health had come as a very unpleasant surprise. Sano had been unwilling to see Kaoru, uncomfortably reminded of the shock he'd had when he'd encountered Kenshin in Shanghai and seen his old friend's appalling health. Having to repeat the experience with Kaoru was depressing to say the least.

"Hey Sano."

"Kenji."

"How's mother doing?"

"She's asleep now."

"That's good."

Sano could feel the weight of his discomfort settling back down on his shoulders as he joined Kenji in walking up to the house. When Megumi had introduced him as 'an old friend of your father's' Kenji had made a crack about him being a fellow wanderer. The way he'd said it - the contempt he'd managed to suggest he had for his father - had infuriated Sano. Not because of the insult to him, but because of the insult to Kenshin, a man who'd commanded his absolute respect. It had taken all of the ex-gangster's self control not to pound Kenshin's son into the ground, a fact that had been obvious to Kenji. Things were still tense between them, but his mother's obvious pleasure at seeing Sano again, and the latter's stories of his father (which Kenji would claim not to have the slightest interest in, before telling Sano he might as well go on with the story now he'd started it), had eased the boy's anger somewhat. But to Kenji Sano was still someone who'd known his father better than he had and the conflict between his jealousy and his curiosity made him decidedly ambivalent towards Sano. It wasn't fair, Sano thought, as he waited in the sitting room while Kenji went to look in on his mother.

Kenshin and Kaoru deserved a better ending than this.

The shock of learning the identity of the man - god, Shinta reminded himself, he was a god, the Shinto god of law no less - had driven him to sit down again. Ida-ten had resumed his seat next to Shinta, though they now sat face to face.

"I don't understand" Shinta said at last. "Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same question."

At Shinta's irritated look, Ida-ten raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"I apologise. I shouldn't answer your questions with more of my own, but my question is tied up in the answer to your own. After all, I'm only here because you are."

Ida-ten paused for a moment before continuing, apparently gathering his thoughts.

"Why are you here, Shinta-san? As I said, you were forgiven your sins. A place awaits you in heaven. But by your own will, conscious or not, you have turned that honour down. There was something of an uproar, you know. It is not often that a man turns his back on paradise."

Ida-ten paused again, this time to let his statement sink in. Shinta was staring out into space wearing an expression that Ida-ten would wager had not crossed his face in a long time. It was understandable. Knowing that you've given the gods something to discuss could make any mortal a little swirly-eyed. Not that Shinta was entirely mortal - hence their current conversation.

"I, but, but how? And where is this?"

Shinta gestured around himself, indicating the desolate landscape and the clear saltwater pool that provided the sole relief from it.

"Limbo, Shinta-san. Limbo of a sort, anyway. As I said, you turned your back on heaven. Hell was closed to you, so this is where you ended up."

At Shinta's questioning look, Ida-ten continued. Shinta had the impression that the god was quite enjoying his role as lecturer.

"This place is a creation of your own mind, my friend. It exists solely because you need it to. This saltwater pool you were gazing into so avidly when I arrived is the reason you came here. It represents the guilt you feel for your sins. Imagined ones as well as real, hence its size."

Shinta stared at him for long moments before speaking.

"How did I come to be here?"

"As I said, you chose -"

"How is that even possible? And for that matter, what are you doing here?"

Ida-ten sighed. Shinta had caught the crucial point of his statement quicker than he'd expected. By retreating to this private purgatory rather than ascending to heaven he had, however unintentionally, defied the will of the gods themselves. How could a mortal spirit do such a thing?

"If you would be so good as to indulge me, Shinta-san, I would tell you the story of a warrior named Toshiro, who lived nearly a thousand years ago."

Seeing that Shinta was about to object to the perceived diversion, Ida-ten continued before he had a chance to speak.

"I promise that if you listen your questions will be answered, Shinta-san. You may even learn the answers to questions you did not know you had."

"Didn't you just apologise for not answering my questions properly?" Shinta responded dryly.

Ida-ten laughed lightly in response.

"Indeed I did, but I have much to tell you and sometimes it is easier to approach large truths slowly rather than confront them all at once in their entirety."

Shinta just shrugged, turning back towards the pool again, though his posture suggested he was prepared to listen. Taking this as an invitation to speak, Ida-ten began his story.

"Long ago, when the gods were younger and less wise than we now, we did not concern ourselves overmuch with the affairs of mortals. In our arrogance we believed that they were so far below us that their actions did not concern us at all, so long as they worshipped us and showed us respect. So men warred among themselves and did great wrongs, but we paid them no attention for we were concerned with our own affairs. Susanano ran amok in those days and all our efforts were focused on bringing Amaterasu out of the cave into which she had retreated so that she might bring her wayward brother to heel. To my eternal shame I even allowed the monasteries that were part of my domain to war among themselves."

Shinta looked askance at the bleak look that crossed Ida-ten's face as he spoke. It was strange to him to think of the gods having such human things as regrets.

"Into those unsettled times were born a simple labourer named Toshiro and a shrine maiden named Senko. It was Toshiro's job to take care of the grounds and buildings of the shrine that lay on the outskirts of his village. Toshiro took great joy in his work, for he was a man wise enough to understand the contentment that can be found in simple tasks. Senko was, of course, a maiden at this same shrine. She was a curious, thoughtful girl and the behaviour of the labourer who looked after the shrine was a source of some fascination to her. He attended to every task, whether it was the fetching of water from the well or repairing a roof with a degree of care and diligence that one might have expected from the Emperor's own servants. After watching Toshiro for weeks Senko's curiosity had grown to the point that she felt compelled to ask him why he felt his various tasks required such dedication. His commitment was admirable, she told him, but she did not understand the reason behind it. So Toshiro began to speak. He told her that there was as much beauty to be found in a single flower as a whole landscape. He spoke of how any activity, if taken seriously enough, could be refined into a form of art. A man with simple desires, he said, was far more likely to live a contented life. Senko found this philosophy of life intriguing and their first conversation led to many others like it."

"Time passed and a friendship blossomed between the labourer and the shrine maiden that slowly grew into something more. Nearly a year after Senko had first approached Toshiro he went to her father and asked for permission to marry Senko. Senko's father was an elderly man whose wife had died giving birth to Senko, their first and only child. He had never remarried and had raised Senko himself, as best he knew how, but he had begun to despair of his daughter ever finding someone to marry. They had led a particularly isolated existence until Senko had been taken in by the shrine and Senko was generally considered a 'strange' girl. He had little experience in social matters and had been unable to arrange a marriage for her. The old man had watched the blossoming relationship between Senko and Toshiro with delight, for he knew Toshiro was an honourable and reliable man who would care well for his daughter. He gave his approval happily and Senko was equally delighted to accept Toshiro's proposal. In more peaceful times they would have wed, raised a family and lived long, contented lives. It will probably not surprise you Shinta-san that this is not what happened."

"The shrine where Senko and Toshiro worked was affiliated with a nearby monastery. This monastery was engaged with a feud with another monastery some distance away over some differences in their interpretation of Buddhism that I, as a god, can tell you were entirely inconsequential."

Ida-ten's voice grew heavy as he continued.

"Barely a week before the wedding the shrine and the nearby monastery were attacked by raiders from the monastery with which they were in conflict. Senko's father, who was visiting his daughter when the raid occurred, was killed in their attack. The raiders came storming down from the hills, set fire to the shrine, attacked Toshiro, left him for dead and took Senko away with them. Toshiro awoke to find the shrine in flames and wreathed by clouds of thick, black, choking smoke. As he had been working outside when the shrine was attacked he was able to drag himself away from the shrine before it burnt to the ground. Coughing from the smoke he had inhaled and barely able to see straight because of the blow to the head dealt to him from behind, Toshiro made his way to the village where he learnt that the raiders had travelled North along the main road out of the village. Wounded and weak he foolishly set out along the road with nothing but the clothes on his back, determined to rescue Senko. He was not in his right mind at the time, though of course he did not realize it. The blow to the head and the way the smoke had starved the air from his lungs must have affected his thinking for him to believe that he could retrieve Senko in his current condition. But in his delirium he was able to continue when most men would have collapsed from exhaustion or pain and this, combined with the arrogance of the raiders, enabled him to reach the place where they were camped for the night. Now, Toshiro may have been young and he may have been brave, but he was wounded and he did not know how to fight. There was no glorious rescue of his beloved. He stumbled into their guard in the early morning and was beaten to within an inch of his life before they left him to die at the side of the road. This story nearly ended there, Shinta-san, but I arranged for a wandering trader to stumble across Toshiro and help him back to his home village, where he was nursed back to health. When he was well enough to decide on a course of action Toshiro resolved to pray to the gods for help. Specifically, he decided to pray to me, Shinta-san. He felt that as the god of both law and monasteries this crime would have special significance for me."

"He was right, but I doubt the results of his prayer were as he expected."

"Toshiro returned to the shrine from which his love had been taken and there erected a small hut, from inside which he prayed to me that I should grant him strength to rescue Senko from the raiders who had stolen her away. But he had questions for me too. Was I not the god of both the law and monasteries? Was what had happened to Senko in any way lawful? How could I suffer such a thing to happen in my own domain? When he had finished praying he began to fast, determined that he would continue to do so until he received an answer."

Ida-ten's voice trailed off and he imitated Shinta's earlier pose as he gazed broodingly into the pool. After Ida-ten had been silent for a few minutes Shinta could restrain himself no longer.

"I doubt that the story ends there."

"You are right, Shinta-san, it does not."

After a few more seconds Ida-ten began to speak again, more hesitantly this time. It was clear to Shinta that this was not something that he was comfortable discussing.

"I had heard his prayers, for the attack on the shrine and the indifference of the monks had infuriated me and filled me with thoughts of vengeance. When Toshiro made his request I saw an opportunity to have my will done. From the audacity he had shown in questioning me I knew he was a man of spirit, one who potentially had the strength of character to fulfil the purpose I now planned for him. I watched as he fasted, for I wished to know the extent of his resolve. Weeks passed and Toshiro took nothing but a little water each day. He grew weaker and weaker but still his determination did not falter. Finally, when he was close to death, I appeared to him. Our conversation . . . was an interesting one."

At this juncture Ida-ten rose and walked a few short steps that took him to the pool's edge. He knelt down and reached out to place the tip of the index finger of his right hand upon the water. Shinta looked on with some astonishment as colours began to swirl in the water before resolving into a perfectly clear image.

The image that had appeared in the pool was of a small, sparsely furnished room. In the centre of the room, sitting cross legged on a thin tatami mat, was a young man. He was slim and of average height with dark brown hair cut close to his head. He wore a well worn and heavily patched peasant's smock. There was nothing notable about his appearance, save for the fire that burned in his black eyes. Shinta knew instinctively that this was Toshiro. As he watched it became obvious that Toshiro was in poor condition, weak from his many weeks of fasting. Shinta's observation was proven accurate a moment later when Toshiro abruptly collapsed, falling backwards from his sitting position to lie bonelessly on the floor. It was at this moment that Ida-ten appeared in the air above Toshiro. Shinta sucked in a startled breath of air at the sight. As he sat before Shinta now, the Ida-ten that appeared to Toshiro had the appearance of an ordinary human. There was perhaps the slightest sense of his being something more, but it was subtle to the point that few would notice it. As he appeared before Toshiro Ida-ten was a great glowing figure, a man of fire wearing armour of pure light. The brilliant figure reached out to the awestruck Toshiro and somehow raised him to a standing position without ever touching him. Toshiro immediately went to prostrate himself before the god but halted when Ida-ten gestured for him to rise. Confusion evident on his face, Toshiro did so.

"Why do you show such humility Toshiro?" the glowing apparition asked him.

"You showed me only the barest courtesy when you first spoke to me, but now that I am present you do not hesitate to bow down before me. Are you a coward? Will you disrespect me behind my back but not to my face?" Ida-ten asked Toshiro, his tone faintly mocking. For a moment Toshiro was silent, speechless in the face of the god's scorn, but then he straightened and replied, his voice firm and intense.

"No. I will disrespect you to your face as well. You failed us! Monasteries are your dominion! The law is your responsibility! You have failed to oversee either! Act as you will, I am not afraid to chastise you!"

"Act as I will, hmmm?" Ida-ten mused, before apparently coming to a decision.

"So be it" the god declared.

With that the glowing figure fell upon Toshiro and engulfed him in the light that emanated from the god.

"What are doing to him?!" Shinta demanded of Ida-ten, shooting to his feet and reaching for a sword that was no longer there as an amber tint that was familiar to the god entered Shinta's eyes. Ida-ten was outwardly unmoved by the sight, though within he was delighted by this evidence that Kenshin's warrior spirit was undulled by time.

"The events you now witness took place nearly a thousand years ago, Shinta-san. Believe me when I say that there is no changing the past."

Furious amber eyes met implacable black ones and neither would turn away, until Ida-ten gestured toward the pool.

"You must watch this, Shinta-san, if you want to understand."

Reluctantly Shinta turned back toward the pool, in time to see Toshiro standing up and staring down at himself in wonder.

"What have you done to me?" Toshiro asked wonderingly as he held out his hands in front of him and studied them as though they were completely alien to him. Shinta frowned in concentration, wondering what he had missed.

"I have given you a gift, Toshiro. One that will enable you to rescue your Senko, should you be willing to pay the price."

"What do you mean?"

Ida-ten's voice sounded almost amused as the god replied.

"You are a warrior now. I have gifted you with the knowledge of my own school of swordsmanship."

"You are the first master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu."

Shinta stared at Ida-ten in absolute shock. It was not unreasonable to say that this was the most startling thing that had ever happened to him. Ida-ten sat and waited patiently for Shinta to get his head around the idea that there was a trace of the divine in him. It was several minutes before Shinta spoke.

"This is . . ."

"Yes."

"You're . . ."

"Yes."

"I'm . . ."

"Yes."

"You don't even know what I was going to ask!" Shinta exploded.

"I can make a pretty fair guess" Ida-ten replied drolly.

"I realise this is a lot to accept, Shinta-san, but it's the truth. When I taught Toshiro the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu a tiny fragment of my spirit was passed on to him. It gave him the power and speed that he needed to rescue his Senko."

"Did he succeed?" Shinta asked with a sudden flash of interest, having forgotten about Toshiro in the shock of Ida-ten's revelation.

"Yes, but that is a story for another day. We have more important things to discuss."

"Such as? . . . wait, when Shishio . . . how did he survive the-"

"Ah yes. I wondered when that would come up. I gather you've realised that the manner in which the succession technique is usually learnt seals the passing of my spirit from one practitioner of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu to the next. It is that, of course, which imbues you permanently with the technique's god like speed" Ida-ten told him, smirking slightly. "In your case however you were actually able to divide that spark between your master and yourself - though I have seen to it that it will pass out of him in the fullness of time. It was that as much as anything which led to your own failing health - instead of accepting the immortality conveyed by the transferral of my power you divided it. Consequently, you were able to wield my power to the very limit of what your body could handle, but you did not have the energy to heal the strain that this placed upon your body as you would have done had Hiko died."

Shinta simply looked at him, barely able to take in everything Ida-ten was telling him. Ida-ten shook his head and favoured Shinta with another one of his faint smirks.

"Among the samurai there have always been those who were faster, stronger and more skilled than all but a few others. Whether they realise it or not they are avatars of one god or another - you have met a couple of them, I believe. Toshiro, my chosen, was the first of these."

Ida-ten gave Shinta an inscrutable glance before continuing.

"And you are the last."

Shinta did not respond, but his expression asked the question for him.

"Your world is changing, Shinta-san, and mine with it. My brothers and sisters have agreed that we shall no longer make our mark upon your world."

Ida-ten sighed wearily before he started speaking again.

"But first, I have one last task for you, if you are willing."

Usui grinned with wicked delight as he watched his latest victim. Shishio, he reflected, had not lost any of his characteristic cunning or deviousness with the transition from human to spirit. If anything, the change had made him even more deadly, since his supernatural nature opened up avenues that had been unavailable to a mere mortal.

_And the same is true for me_ Usui thought, unable to suppress another grin. As a spirit he was able to pass unseen, with a few exceptions, through the human world. Passing from hell to the world of the living and back was another matter, but Shishio had learnt how to circumvent that restriction with ease. Additionally, his 'eye of heart' was far more sensitive than it had been, enabling him to perceive auras and spiritual energy, although for some reason his sight had not returned to him upon his death. These two factors made his current surveillance even easier than it might otherwise have been, since all he had to do was stand outside the Kamiya dojo and monitor the auras inside.

_When Battousai's woman dies I will be waiting_, Usui thought smugly. _Even if Shishio is wrong about the assassin she might still prove an interesting diversion._

Shinta eyed Ida-ten dubiously.

"One last task . . . you want me to fight for you, don't you? I'm not a swordsman anymore, no matter what you say."

Shinta spread his hands out to emphasize his next point.

"I don't even have a sword now."

Ida-ten's response was an enigmatic smile.

"In regards to that, I have something for you Shinta-san."

Reaching down to the package that had lain at his side the whole time they had been speaking Ida-ten picked up the linen wrapped bundle and began to unfold the material. His efforts soon revealed its contents, causing Shinta to recoil slightly. It was a simple katana, the blade clean and oiled but unpolished, the hilt wrapped in soft black leather. The weapon was somewhat longer than was normal with a slightly more exaggerated curve than Shinta was accustomed to seeing on a katana. He had a good knowledge of swords from his past life and he could tell that though the weapon was plain it was very finely made. Whether it was through the knowledge his own life had left him with, some sixth sense or just the fact that it was Ida-ten presenting it to him, Shinta knew that this was no ordinary weapon. Almost against his will he took the blade from the god, his arms seeming to move by themselves as they reached out for it. The hilt fit snugly into Shinta's palms and a few experimental swings revealed a balance and weight so exquisite that every other weapon he had ever held were no more than clubs by comparison.

"What is this?"

Shinta asked the question softly, his voice low and reverent. It was the swordsman in him that spoke. Ida-ten's voice was tinged with amusement when he replied.

"I must congratulate you, Shinta-san. You are only the third man in existence to hold the Kusanagi no Tsukugi in his hands."

Shinta froze in mid swing, his entire body locking up. After a couple of seconds his head turned so he was looking directly into Ida-ten's eyes while the rest of him remained perfectly still.

"The Kusanagi no Tsukugi?"

"Yes."

"Susanano's blade? The weapon he used to defeat the Koshi?

"That's right, Shinta-san. Ah! Please don't drop it! Okuni-nichi would never forgive me if I returned it to him damaged!"

"Okuni-nichi . . ."

"Indeed. It is his sword now, Shinta-san. He won it away from his father some time ago."

"But . . ."

"Try not to be too shocked. The gods are forbidden to enter the realm of the forsaken, which Shishio is counting on, but you are not. None of us want to see him succeed in his aims. And if you do not stop him . . . there will be nothing left. He seeks more than to merely conquer hell, Shinta-san. He desires dominion over all that is."

A thought occurred to Shinta and he reached out to touch the edge of the blade with a finger tip. Feeling the sharpness of the blade he pulled his hand away with a frown.

"This is a killing blade" he told Ida-ten, his expression grim.

"So it is" the god agreed. "But Shishio is dead already. If you do not defeat him he will share his fate - and worse - with all beings, be they gods or mortals."

Ida-ten waited for the implications of his statement to sink in. If Shinta chose not to fight, eventually there would be no safe place left for his loved ones in any stage of life. But Ida-ten still hoped that it would not come to that.

Most people imagine hell an inferno, hot beyond all imagining. Those with slightly more imagination envisage it as an arctic wasteland, cold enough to freeze the soul. Both of these notions are completely wrong. For those condemned to it hell, like heaven, is entirely subjective, tailored to the specific fears and hates of each individual that occupies it. The physical form of hell itself, however, is rather less interesting. A permanently overcast sky over coarse black sand is not a landscape to inspire an artist or a poet. Hell, for the most part, is dusty, dry and incredibly boring.

Such were Makoto Shishio's thoughts as he lounged against the side of a low dune, Yumi coiled against his side, and gazed out across a bland expanse of black desert. Conquering hell had so far proven to be a singularly dull enterprise, though to be fair the hardest part, the most interesting part, was yet to come. A smirk distorted the bandages around Shishio's mouth as he thought of facing Yakumo in pitched combat and the weapon he intended to wield at that battle. Yes, Shishio decided, the future would be interesting indeed.

"Well, Shinta-san, what do you say? Once you were Katsura's guardian of chaos. Are you prepared now to be my guardian of order?"

Kenshin looked at him steadily and answered Ida-ten's question with a single word.

"Yes."

Author's Notes

Makoto Shishio

I always thought Makoto Shishio was a pretty impressive villain. He's probably the most dangerous enemy Kenshin faced and certainly the most charismatic - he radiates menace on a level that few anime villains can match. It says something about him that his final scene, where he resolves to conquer hell, is entirely in keeping with his character. The idea that Shishio might actually succeed at this has certainly occurred to more people than just me (I know of at least one other fic with this as a plot element). When I had the idea myself it sort of fused with my thoughts about Seishouen and it occurred to me that Kenshin could find himself having to face Shishio again in the afterlife. It was a concept that I found particularly appealing because it took what was a very sad conclusion to a great series and transformed it into a kind of rebirth.

Inspiration

Despite this, the idea just sat around in the back of my head for about a year because I couldn't think of a way for Kenshin to go from spirit to supernatural warrior (which is more or less what he's agreeing to become.) Brian Randall deserves the credit, though it was completely accidental on his part, for giving me the idea of making Kenshin a servant of Ida-ten after I read his excellent story 'Sky and Shore' which you can find here on ff.net. Ida-ten is the Japanese Shinto god of law and monasteries. He's generally characterised as a handsome young man whose defining characteristic is his unparalleled speed. You can see how I made the connection between him and Kenshin and from there the rest of the chapter just flowed. I feel that my portrayal of him here - capable, serious about his duty but wise enough to have a sense of humour even in what are fairly dire circumstances - isn't unreasonable.

Historical Notes

If Toshiro were real he would have lived in the mid 1100's, when the Japanese government (such as it was) was pretty weak and power was held by wealthy families. Monasteries and other institutions were tax exempt while land ownership laws were lax so the government was poor and private families were rich. Additionally monasteries, over which Ida-ten has dominion, often warred with one another. For purely literary purposes I've said that this was while Susanano was causing mayhem among the gods, making them too busy to keep an eye on mortals (this is mythically accurate, but there's no way of linking it to a particular period of actual history).

Character Ages

Kenshin is about thirty when he first meets Kaoru. She's a decade younger than him, so she can't be more than twenty when the series starts. It's hard to be sure, but based on my watching of the Kyoto arc less than a year passes between that time and Kenshin's fight with Shishio. Now, at the end of Seishouen Kenji is in his late teens. Supposing that not too much time passes between the end of the Kyoto arc and Kenji's birth (I figure two to three years), Kenshin is approximately fifty when he dies, which puts Kaoru in her early forties. Given that the Japanese have some of the longest life expectancies in the world (and that women generally outlive men) forty is a fairly young age to be dying of natural causes, even for a century ago (especially since their lifestyles were probably healthier then than they are now). I include this note to explain the context of Megumi's feelings about Kaoru's approaching death. Note that since Megumi and Sano are about the same age (they're maybe a few years older than Kaoru - Sano was still a child when a teenaged Kenshin had become the Battousai) Sano and Megumi are certainly young enough to carry a romantic subplot.

The Kusanagi no Tsukugi

The name translates as 'Grass Cutting Sword.' According to legend this is the weapon wielded by Amaterasu's brother, Susanano. He's a brave adventurer who sometimes does good but he's also the personification of evil and a real troublemaker (so, like Kenshin, he has a fairly chequered past). He once used the sword to defeat a hideous many headed monster, the koshi. His son, Okuni-Nishi, eventually tricked him out of the sword.

This chapter is a reload to fix a minor formatting problem.


	2. Chapter 2

Usui smiled as he drifted through the thin walls of his target's house. Being a spirit really was incredibly useful, especially for a task like this. Of course, there was a limit to how much influence a spirit could exert on the mortal world, but that would change once Shishio had conquered hell. And after that . . . But that would come later, Usui reminded himself. Right now, he had a task to perform.

Izaki Mikado had been a moderately important member of Shishio's network in the days when the former Hitokiri had still walked the earth. He was a merchant who ran caravans that travelled across most of Japan, a business that gave him a perfectly good reason for hiring a large number of sword carrying bodyguards. Shishio had seen him as a useful source of manpower and transport. All these years later Izaki still had access to a fair-sized body of men, none of them especially moral or honourable - which was the way Izaki liked his bodyguards. They were unlikely to balk at the murder of a single ill woman, so long as Izaki promised them a bonus.

And he would, Usui was sure. By the time he was through with Izaki the man would stop at nothing to ensure the death of Kamiya Kaoru.

* * *

Guardian of Order

A Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction

Chapter Two

* * *

Izaki Mikado shuddered in his sleep as memories of events long past were revived and sent to haunt his dreams. He had only met Shishio once and ever afterward had wished with every fibre of his being that he hadn't. The man had been . . . inhuman. He was reliving that meeting now, as he slept.

"I have a task for you, Izaki," Shishio was saying as he sipped idly at his sake. The two of them were sitting across from one another in a small but well appointed room in an inn that Izaki had an interest in. Shishio's woman – Yumi, he thought her name was, he'd been too nervous to pay much attention when Shishio had introduced her – had accompanied him, but Izaki had come alone as Shishio had instructed.

_I don't remember this,_ Izaki thought. _This isn't real, is it? Am I dreaming or not?_

Izaki shuddered as Shishio's gaze fixed on him. He could feel a burning sensation behind his eyes, almost as though the madman's gaze was physically entering his head. In a moment of horrible realisation Izaki realised that something like that was happening, as images and thoughts appeared in his mind. A woman named Kamiya Kaoru. A dojo and its location. The names and faces of others who lived there. Then Shishio spoke again.

"You will send every man you have to that place, two nights from now, and tell them to kill the woman and anyone who tries to protect her. Tell your men that others will join them on their way there."

Izaki felt like weeping. He knew, somehow, that was more than just a dream.

_This was supposed to be over!_

Despite himself, he couldn't help expressing the thought aloud.

"Aren't . . . aren't you supposed to be dead?" Izaki stuttered, barely able to get the words out. The leering smile that Shishio favoured him with was horrible to behold.

"Death has no dominion over such as me, Izaki" Shishio replied, "which is something you would be well advised to remember."

* * *

Usui grinned as Izaki sat up in bed, gasping for breath and looking around himself with wide, staring eyes.

_How utterly pathetic_, he thought. _Still, it's fortunate he's so easily manipulated. Borrowing Shishio's image was just the thing to ensure his obedience._

With a thought Usui slipped away from Izaki's home, passing first through wooden walls and then through dirt and stone and magma as his spirit returned to hell, unaware that his actions had been carefully noted by one whose attention he would not have wished to attract.

* * *

Shinta looked around himself with interest. Since agreeing to Ida-ten's request a part of him he'd thought long dead had reawakened. As a child Hiko had filled his world. The man had been mentor, instructor and father figure all rolled into one. Awe for the man had dominated his perceptions. As the hitokiri he'd been cold, determined not to feel _anything_ to protect himself from the bloodlust that crept around the edges of his mind. The world had been a cold place in those days. His time with Tomoe had, in the end, proven to be no more than an interlude. As the rurouni he'd sought hope – and found it, miracle of miracles – but the rurouni had been a secret cynic, knowing too much about what causes cost to really believe in them. And as a husband he'd known joy, however fleetingly. But there had been a brief period of time, between the day he'd left Hiko and the indefinable moment when he'd become the hitokiri, when he'd been an idealist. It had been the only time in his life when he'd been completely sure of himself, of everything he did, and was. Now he seemed to have recovered a little of that feeling. It was strange and unfamiliar after so many years and so many tragedies, but he was cautiously feeling his way back into what it was like to have a purpose.

It felt surprisingly good.

And that thought led him back to his examination of his surroundings. He was standing on a wide, smooth beach of grey sand that stretched far into the distance both ahead of and behind him. To his left lay harsh granite cliffs and on his right was the ocean. Great waves crashed ceaselessly against the shore, driven on by the same wind that tore at his gi and hakama and whipped his hair out behind him. The sky above was grey and laden with heavy clouds that scudded across it with uncommon speed. It was cool, but Shinta did not feel especially cold. The brisk wind was, if anything, invigorating. Shinta did not realise it, but the grey had faded from his hair and the sores were gone from his skin. Even his worn gi and hakama were cleaner and brighter than they had been in years. Without his knowing it Shinta's inner drive had begun to manifest physically. Ida-ten had brought him here somehow, Shinta knew, dispelling his limbo with a wave of his hand and replacing it with this, saying something about 'all being one, in any case.' It had made no sense to Shinta.

_But who knows how the gods travel_, he reflected.

Ida-ten had vanished shortly thereafter, telling Shinta that he had other matters to attend to before leaving with the physical speed for which he was renowned. He'd seemed almost rushed, and something about the way he'd left had struck Shinta as oddly familiar. He had dismissed the memory, supposing the recollection would come to him in time if it was important. Shinta suspected that Ida-ten had not intended to leave him in this place without explanation, but there was presumably a reason for it. He just hoped he wouldn't be waiting for too long. Shinta did not recognise the landscape over which he now gazed, but that was hardly surprising. So far as he knew he was still somewhere within the territory over which the gods held dominion. His train of thought was derailed as he sensed a powerful aura flaring into existence behind him.

_How did he get so close? _Shinta wondered as he spun around, one hand reaching instinctively for the hilt of the Kusanagi no Tsukugi, only to stop dead when the other spoke.

"No matter what Ida-ten says, I will decide for myself whether you are fit to wield my blade," Susanowa declared.

* * *

On a thin pallet in a run down shack a man named Seta Soujiro dreamed uneasy dreams. In his dream it was the day he'd fought Kenshin, the day his world had been torn apart and remade. He was the same age he'd been then and wore the same clothes. But it wasn't Kenshin who was facing him from across the training hell where they'd fought. Instead it was another man who stood there, one who looked oddly like Soujiro himself.

"Who are you?" his dream self asked.

"Someone to whom you owe a debt," the stranger replied.

"I don't understand."

They were stalking each other, blades drawn, circling slowly round the room as each searched for an opening. And yet Soujiro had no sense of threat from the man. He felt almost . . . relaxed. Truth be told he had felt the same way in most of the fights he's ever been in – the gulf in skill between him and most of his opponents ensured that – but this was different. He somehow knew, in the way one sometimes did in dreams, that this man was even faster and more skilled than he.

_But he is not my enemy_, Soujiro thought. _How do I know this?_

"Because your spirit recognises me," the stranger replied to his unvoiced question. In his dream it did not seem strange to Soujiro that the man could read his thoughts.

"You didn't answer my question," he told the man, deciding that if only he knew who his opponent was things would make sense.

"I am the source of your strength," the man replied, "but it was not given to you. You stole it – and now I require recompense."

"You aren't making sense!" Soujiro exclaimed, growing frustrated. The days when his every emotion was carefully suppressed were long gone, but in this setting his feelings seemed oddly muted. He felt preternaturally calm, despite the strangeness of the situation.

"You were . . . a gamble . . . on my part, for want of a better word," the man continued in a soft and thoughtful voice, ignoring Soujiro's outburst. Soujiro had the impression that the man was more thinking out loud than talking to him.

"I could feel a little of myself being siphoned away, but when I found the child doing it I was surprised and curious. Your shuntensatsu is an abomination, a corruption of my gift to my chosen, but I sensed potential in you. So I let you go - and eventually my benevolence was rewarded."

Suddenly he sprang forward, moving with such speed that he vanished from Soujiro's vision. Sheer reflex saved him as he brought his katana up to block an overhead swing that he couldn't actually see. Soujiro sensed his opponent retreating in preparation for another assault, still moving too fast to be seen with the naked eye. Only the faint haze caused by violently displaced air gave any clue to his location.

_This must be what it's like for people who fight me,_ Soujiro realised. The thought created an unusual sensation in him, but there was no time for him to examine the feeling now. He launched himself into the shuku-chi, feeling the breeze of the other's blade as it whipped through the space he had occupied until a moment ago. Soujiro tore across the room, veering quickly from left to right to make his path an uneven zigzag rather than a straight line, and came to a stop in the far corner. He'd intended to turn and run at his opponent with the length of the room to gain speed but the man had followed him and Soujiro found himself spinning around just quickly enough to face him head on. He parried a sweeping sideways slash and then dropped his stance and twisted his katana to bring it up in a diagonal strike meant to slip under an enemy's guard. Cricket-in-the-grass, he vaguely remembered the form was called. Soujiro had never had much use for the names of the forms he'd taught himself – he didn't need them to know when to use which move. The other man angled his katana sharply downward even as he raised the hilt towards his left shoulder and swung the blade of his weapon in an arc that turned Soujiro's thrust aside. Keeping the hilt high the man reversed his defensive sweep into a strike aimed at Soujiro's neck. Unable to bring his own weapon up in time to block the stroke, unable to back away because he'd foolishly let himself be cornered, unable to jump in the moment available to him before the blade tore his throat out Soujiro moved in the only direction left to him: down. Soujiro could have sworn he felt the edge of the katana trim a few hairs from the top of his head as it passed over him before he straightened his bent knees with enough force to send him flying up toward the ceiling. Pivoting in mid flight he positioned himself so that his feet came in contact with the ceiling first and thrust out again, sending him ricocheting back toward the floor – in the space immediately behind the other swordsman. Soujiro rolled as he hit the floor, easily absorbing the force of the impact along the length of his body, and pivoted on one heel as he turned to face his adversary. He brought his katana up in a rising turn as he spun round and steel sang against steel as his foe anticipated the move.

Then they began to fight in earnest.

Within a minute Soujiro found himself overwhelmed. Flipping over his adversary's head had been supposed to give him the advantage, reversing their positions so that the other man would be trapped in a corner. Instead he had gone on an offensive that was blindingly fast even by the standards of the man who had once been known as the Tenken. Soujiro had been driven back across the room and was now hemmed into the same corner from which he'd started the fight. And then the inevitable happened. A moment's hesitation caused by a drop of sweat running down into his eye that made Soujiro blink and his opponent's blade was poised to pierce his heart. Soujiro stared in surprise as the man with drew his blade and took several steps backward. The man stopped moving and stood directly in front of Soujiro, his stance relaxed. Soujiro's chest was heaving from his exertions and sweat ran down his face – dream or not, he hadn't worked this hard since the day he'd fought Kenshin – but the other man was fresh as a springtime flower. He raised his head and looked straight into Soujiro's eyes with a gaze that spoke of power and discipline. Suddenly his image was replaced by something else. Where he had been standing there was a figure of fire wearing armour made of light. Soujiro gaped in astonishment and realised that he was kneeling before the fiery being in front of him without any memory of having done so. Then the being spoke.

"I am Ida-ten, Soujiro-san, and now that you have proven your worth to me I have a task for you."

* * *

Shinta took an involuntary step backwards as the man rose up in front of him. His features marked him as being indisputably Japanese, but he was unlike any member of his race that Shinta had ever seen. He was tall, much taller even than Sano, Shinta thought, with the same kind of lean but muscular build. His skin was a dusky shade of brown and the irises of his eyes were a gleaming gold. He was clean shaven and one other detail impressed itself on Shinta's consciousness – he was missing his fingernails. It was that which confirmed Shinta's guess as to who the man was.

_So he really did loose his beard and fingernails_, Shinta thought bemusedly, unsure how to feel about the fact that he'd just met another god.

"You must be Ida-ten's little mortal avatar," Susanowa observed dryly, looking Shinta over in a manner that was clearly intended to be insulting – and succeeded admirably in its intent.

"Yes," Shinta agreed, deciding not to rise to the bait.

_Know the lay of the land before you start a fight, boy. Know your opponent too. You won't always have the luxury of being able to pick and choose your battles, but only an idiot charges into the unknown when he doesn't have to._ Hiko's advice came back to him, as it had so many times before. It was one of the many pieces of true wisdom that had been mixed in with his master's bluff and exaggeration. Shinta had sometimes wondered if separating the good advice from the bad had been his master's way of teaching him to think. With Hiko you never knew.

"Did he even tell you why he brought you here?"

"I'm afraid not," Shinta replied steadily. Instinct told him he was on thin ice with the god who stood before him and Shinta was uncomfortably aware that he was currently carrying a weapon that Susanowa might well feel did not belong to him.

_I have to trust that Ida-ten brought me here for a reason. If what he told me is true then there's no time to waste on squabbles – but I wish he'd told me what I was supposed to do here before he left._

Susanowa's smile was broad and smug and showed a lot of teeth.

"You're supposed to retrieve something," he told Shinta casually, "but I remain unconvinced as to the wisdom of entrusting you with it."

"You question my honour?" Shinta asked coolly, feeling an echo of the assassin he had once been stir in his soul. He did not delude himself over his flaws, but Shinta knew that one vice he'd never had was pride.

_Well, not pride in myself_, Shinta reflected._ Pride in my ideals, on the other hand . . ._

Nonetheless, hearing his integrity being questioned so casually was annoying. The god before him was beginning to remind Shinta of Saitou, only even more aggravatingly self assured. Not surprising, considering who he was.

"It is not your honour I question," Susanowa told him with a snort. "Ida-ten is a good judge of character, if noting else," the god added grudgingly. "What I question is your _ability_. I doubt any mortal is capable of the task Ida-ten has set you, even one who was his avatar." Susanowa paused for a moment and smirked at Shinta's stony expression.

"But never let it be said that I am not a generous man," he continued, assumed generosity colouring his voice. "I'll give you a chance to prove yourself. Show me how good you are, Ida-ten's so called guardian of order."

Shinta just looked at him.

"Well?" Susanowa asked with a mocking smile. "Aren't you going to attack me? Or have you given up already?"

Shinta's answering smile was thin.

"It would be dishonourable of me to attack an unarmed opponent," he replied easily. "I would not want you to think I have an unfair advantage."

"A problem easily rectified," Susanowa returned. "Behold," the god declared after a moment's pause, his voice almost reverent, "the Blades of Storm and Stone."

Shinta blinked and then watched with growing apprehension as strange forces, something that was only visible as a faint distortion in the air, began to gather in Susanowa's hands.

The god's left hand stretched out toward the sea and the fingers of his left hand curled in a beckoning gesture. Trails of ocean spray and storm cloud spun out from the ocean and the sky, forming into the shape of a kodachi that Susanowa held in his left hand.

As this was happening Susanowa's right hand had stretched out towards the cliffs and made the same beckoning gesture, drawing a stream of granite chips hat became a second blade, held in his right hand.

Shinta watched through narrowed eyes as Susanowa lowered his arms into a ready position and crossed the two weapons in front of him. The blade made of water and cloud roiled that foamed within its perfectly held shape was held in an offensive position, while the blade of stone compressed so finely that its surface was marble smooth and its edge razor sharp was held in a defensive position.

"Impressive," he conceded.

"Aren't they?" Susanowa agreed with another smirk. "Ama Tsu Mara made them for me as a gift. He was ever a good friend."

And then he attacked.

* * *

Hiko Seijuro slept with the ease of a man with an untroubled conscience, though Ida-ten suspected the several bottles of sake he'd downed with his dinner also had something to do with it. The god of law regarded his former avatar with a certain fond bemusement. Every master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu had been different, but none of them had been quite like Hiko.

_Such self-confidence_, Ida-ten reflected. _Even some of my own brothers and sisters are less sure of themselves than this man. He will require a subtler approach than the one I took with Soujiro._

With that the ghostly figure that was all Ida-ten could project of himself onto the mortal plane laid its hand down on Hiko's forehead and Ida-ten entered the his dreams.

For a while he simply watched, renewing his acquaintance with Hiko's mind. The man had changed greatly after he'd taken Shinta as a student, Ida-ten decided. He hadn't noticed then because he'd had other matters to attend to, not the least of them being the transfer of his patronage from Hiko to Shinta. But now, as he looked through Hiko's subconscious, the changes were evident. Hiko dreamed of the days when Shinta had been growing up and learning the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu under his tutelage. The man had didn't have a sentimental bone in his body, but he was still human. He'd needed companionship, family even, which Shinta had provided.

_He misses his 'apprentice' more than he would ever admit_, Ida-ten mused. _He feels a certain responsibility to Shinta's family, as well. I can use that._

It was not exactly forbidden for gods to meddle too much in human affairs, but Amaterasu thoroughly disapproved of such behaviour. Ida-ten was confident however that influencing a few people's dreams was too small a display of power to attract Amaterasu's wrath, especially given his reasons for doing so. Crafting the images he wished Hiko to see was the work of moments and it was only a few minutes later that Hiko Seijuro woke from his sleep, gasping for breath. He swore to himself as he came fully awake and shook his head as though to shake from it the nightmare he'd just had. Kaoru dying, the Kamiya dojo on fire and Kenji burning to death . . . he'd seen enough awful things in the waking world without seeing them in his sleep as well. Hiko sat thinking for a minute before he rose from his bed and began to dress. He knew from past experience that on the rare occasion he had a nightmare it was likely to be a portent of something unpleasant.

_If I set out now it will only take me two days to reach Tokyo_, Hiko calculated as he began to pack for the journey.

_I hope that will be quick enough._

* * *

Even as Susanowa charged towards him Shinta found a moment to wonder at the lightness and balance of the Kusanagi no Tsukugi as he drew the weapon from its sheath. He assumed a basic position of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu and deflected Susanowa's storm blade as it swept up towards his heart. It was then that Shinta got his first surprise. As the blade of the Kusanagi no Tsukugi met the edge of Susanowa's kodachi the portion of it forward from the point where its edge met Shinta's blade dissolved. The rurouni barely had time to dodge as a spray of water and wind tore past his face with phenomenal force. He began to adjust his strategy even as he twisted to avoid a follow through thrust from the stone blade. The hail of stone chips that shot out from its point came as less of a surprise, but Shinta was still forced to back away from him. Susanowa came on, making a series of horizontal slashes that trailed water and stone that forced Shinta to retreat further along the beach.

One part of his mind noted that the sandy surface would slow him down somewhat and suggested he move closer to the ocean where the sand would be firmer.

Another part observed that since the streams of water and stone could come as sweeping horizontal barrages Susanowa would be able to drive him down the beach using the attributes of his blades.

A third part offered a possible solution.

Shinta jumped into the air, but immediately thrust both feet down with enough force to compact the sand underneath his feet. He brought his legs up again for just long enough to tense his muscles properly and then thrust them down with all his strength. Shinta almost smiled as he felt the familiar sensations of the ground falling away beneath him and the air whipping by him as he travelled up with the speed and surety that was the sole preserve of a master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. He looked down as he brought the Kusanagi no Tsukugi into position for a simple overhead stroke and noted that Susanowa had also launched himself into the air, but could not match his speed or his height. Shinta felt a brief flash of satisfaction at the sight. The sweeping horizontal attacks Susanowa used were clearly meant for use from a standing position against an opponent who stayed on the ground. It had been a gamble, but Shinta had guessed that Susanowa was at his best against opponents that stayed on the ground – at least with his current weapons.

_Fighting monsters isn't the same as fighting people_, Shinta thought as fell towards Susanowa like a bird of prey, _but it doesn't help that you're wielding weapons made by someone who doesn't know that swordfighters can go u as well as forwards, backwards, left and right.._

Susanowa was already falling back down as Shinta closed in on him and the god raised the stone blade above his head to swing it in a defensive arc that sent another sweeping hail of stones at Shinta. But the former hitokiri had seen the move often enough to anticipate it and as the swathe of stones came toward him he rolled forward into an aerial somersault, rolling his body around the attack. He continued straight on toward Susanowa with no loss of momentum and brought the Kusanagi no Tsukugi down on the god's right shoulder with all the force he could muster, executing a beautiful Ryu Tsui Sen.

* * *

Shishio regarded the man before him with moderate interest.

_This one would have made a worthy addition to my Juppongatta_, he decided after a careful appraisal. _A shame he chose to strike out on his own – look where it got him._

"And why should I accept your offer?" the man asked, continuing their conversation. His tone was neither insolent nor grovelling. He seemed to speak with noting but faint, yet genuine, curiosity. Shishio approved of that. He had no time for those who showed fear.

"Because," Shishio said slowly, knowing that he had the man in the palm of his hand and wishing to prolong the enjoyable sensation, "it would give you another chance to accomplish that which you failed to do before."

The other man's inhuman gaze seemed to sharpen and focus on some distant sight that only he could see.

"Battousai," he hissed.

"Just so," Shishio agreed equably.

"Very well," said the other, coming to a decision, "I will ally myself with you." Shishio inclined his head in the barest of nods.

_No_, he thought, _you will_ serve _me, whether you know it or not._

* * *

Shinta had deliberately overcommitted to the stroke, knowing that using the blunt edge of the Kusanagi no Tsukugi would rob the blow of some of its energy, as would going against the blade's natural curve. Nonetheless it was a powerful strike and he heard Susanowa grunt in pain as it connected. No ordinary man could have hurt a god, but though Shinta was less than a god he was still more than a mere man – and the weapon he carried had been forged for a god. A moment after his attack Shinta drove his right foot into the same shoulder as he passed over Susanowa and used the move to drive himself forward and up while pushing Susanowa down. Shinta flew through the air in a broad arc that eventually brought him to earth several hundred metres further down the beach. As he landed the red haired swordsman expanded his senses and found that Susanowa had not moved from where he'd landed. With a faint frown he straightened and turned to look back down the beach just as Susanowa vanished from his senses. Only instinct saved him. Shinta flung himself to the side as Susanowa came charging out of the surf. Any surprise he felt was shoved aside as the warrior in him evaluated the move.

_He meant to trap me between him and the cliff face, _Shinta realised as he looked at Susanowa's posture. The time it had taken the god to recover his balance after the failed charge had enabled Shinta to move onto the firmer sand near the surf and ready himself for Susanowa's next strike.

_I know how to beat him_, Shinta suddenly realised as he noticed that Susanowa was favouring his left arm. After taking a moment to determine that Susanowa wasn't faking the injury Shinta decided that his attack had been more effective than anticipated. They'd begun to circle each other now. Apparently the god had decided to give up on his slashing attacks, but Shinta didn't doubt that he had other techniques in his arsenal.

_That won't matter if I end this now,_ Shinta decided. _All I have to do is come at him from the right angle. But I'm not fast enough to circle round him, not on sand. Unless . . ._

He continued to circle Susanowa, waiting for the right moment.

_Not yet . . . not yet . . . not yet . . . NOW!_

Without warning Shinta flung himself into the full speed of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, heading directly for Susanowa. As he'd expected the god rolled aside, using his undamaged shoulder, clearly hoping that Shinta would over commit himself to the attach the same way he had a minute ago. But Shinta had never intended to hit Susanowa. Instead he twisted in mid air, bringing his body around so that he was headed towards the cliff feet first, and as his feet made contact with the cliff face he pushed off from it, sending himself rocketing back towards Susanowa from the opposite direction. The next part of the manoeuvre would be the most difficult, he knew, especially since he'd never practiced the Kuzu Ryu Sen the way Hiko had. But he felt young and strong again, in a way he hadn't experienced since the days when he'd left his mentor to serve Katsura. Shinta knew that time didn't actually slow down in the heat of battle, that the sensation was purely subjective, a result of the discrepancy between the speed of one's body and one's thoughts. That didn't make it any less useful to him as he used the subjective extension in time that occurred as he flew toward Susanowa to set himself for what he knew would be a difficult attack to execute. Susanowa was turning in response to Shinta's unexpected action, but Shinta knew the god had reacted too slowly as he closed in on Susanowa's vulnerable side.

"_KUZU RYU SEN_!" Shinta cried, executing the second to last technique of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu flawlessly from an aerial position, striking Susanowa at the nine major portions of his body.

_Even Hiko would have been impressed by that_, Shinta thought as his feet hit the beach and he slid to a stop, gouging a long, shallow furrow in the sand before all of his kinetic energy was expended. He turned to see Susanowa raising himself up with one arm, the other hanging limp at his side. The blades of Storm and Stone had vanished. Shinta tensed slightly, but chose to hold the Kusanagi no Tsukugi loosely rather than ready himself for another attack. Something about Susanowa had changed and his instincts told him that the battle was over.

"Enough," Susanowa said as he regained his footing and noted that Shinta still held his weapon before him. "You have not defeated me, but I am satisfied as to your skill."

Shinta sheathed the Kusanagi no Tsukugi cautiously, eyeing Susanowa's stance as he did so.

"Is that what this was about?" he asked Susanowa. "It was some kind of test?"

"Just so," Susanowa replied, favouring him with another one of his insufferable smirks. Shinta had not known the god for very long but was already beginning to suspect spending any length of time in his presence would be an exercise in frustration.

"Why? And why was I brought here?" Shinta asked, voicing aloud the question that he'd had little time to consider since his arrival in Susanowa's domain.

"So that I could give you something," Susanowa told him, every bit as inscrutable as his former master. "Assuming, of course, that I found you worthy."

"Give me what?" Shinta asked with a certain amount of frustration. Susanowa's constant half answers reminded him of his conversation with Ida-ten.

"And why you?" he continued more forcefully. "Why are you working with Ida-ten? Aren't you the embodiment of evil?"

Shinta was more curious than fearful. If he understood what Susanowa was saying correctly, he was apparently an ally and he doubted Ida-ten would have brought him here if the god was inclined to hinder him in his task. But the little he knew of Susanowa from legend made such an alliance seem likely.

The god sighed wearily at Shinta's words.

"You mortals, always simplifying things for your own convenience. I _represent_ evil. It doesn't mean that I, personally, _am_ evil. Every aspect of existence has a god to represent it, good or bad. There's no reason or rule that says the behaviour of gods is dictated by the forces they represent, though admittedly some do allow themselves to be . . . influenced."

"As you once were," Shinta guessed, instinct telling him his words were accurate. Accurate they may have been, he realised a moment later as Susanowa's gaze narrowed and his eyes darkened, but perhaps unwise.

"Yes," the god said slowly, drawing the word out, "I made mistakes. Have you lived a blameless life?"

Shinta winced. The point was well made.

"I see you do not deny it," Susanowa observed wryly.

"No," Shinta replied steadily, holding Susanowa's gaze. "I do not."

The god returned his gaze and seemed to find something in it that satisfied him.

"I have something to show you," he told Shinta.

Shinta blinked as Susanowa waved one arm out toward the sea, a generous gesture that revealed a certain tendency for drama, and Ida-ten's avatar looked on with interest and some surprise as a sandbar began to stretch from the shore out into the ocean. The sandbar seemed to rise smoothly up out of the depths as the waves smoothed out before it. Eventually it came to a stop about a hundred metres from the shore. Shinta wondered what it led to, if anything.

"Are you coming?"

Shinta looked over to Susanowa, startled out of his ruminations by the god's words and peremptory tone. Without further comment Susanowa began to stride out along the sandbar. With a mental shrug Shinta set out after him. In less than a minute Susanowa and Shinta had arrived at the end of the sandbar where it formed a small atoll.

"Here we are," Susanowa observed as he came to a stop, his voice oddly subdued.

The tiny island of sand was no more than a half dozen metres across and much of its space was consumed by the large stone boulder that rested in its centre, its surface wet and glistening. The boulder had a broad depression on its top and lying in it haphazardly was a sword. Shinta regarded the weapon uneasily. There was something . . . disturbing about it. It was a wakizashi, or at least that was the closest thing to it in shape and form that he could think of. Its blade was shorter than a wakizashi's, shorter and broader, made from heavy black iron rather than the fine steel Shinta was accustomed to seeing used in weaponry. The blade was so dull that the short sword was almost more of a club and marks that _might_ have been rust spotted its length. Just being near the thing made Shinta feel faintly nauseous.

_It's like looking at a corpse_, he thought with a shudder.

"Hideous, is it not?" Susanowa asked rhetorically, echoing Shinta's thoughts.

"What _is_ it?" Shinta asked, knowing he would not like the answer to his question.

"That, avatar," Susanowa replied, "is the Flame Killing Blade. It's the weapon Izanagi used to kill Kagatuchi. He entrusted it to me thousands of human years after he recovered from the rage that drove him to create and use it."

Susanowa paused to let his words sink in before he continued.

"And Shishio cannot conquer hell without it."

* * *

Author's Notes

Mythical Swords

According to myth Izanagi and Izanami are two of the earliest Japanese gods. Their couplings resulted in the births of many of the major gods and Amaterasu is their eldest child. Some of the stories about them are actually somewhat ribald, but I'm not getting into that here. The story goes that Izanami was burnt to death when she gave birth to the flame spirit Kagatuchi and in his anger Izanagi killed Kagatuchi with a sword (though she was later reborn as a mineral spirit, or several of them depending on which version of the legend you prefer). There's nothing in that legend that particularly refers to the sword itself but I indulged in some artistic licence and made one up. After all, a sword used to kill a flame spirit who burnt her own mother alive is an appropriate weapon for Shishio to seek.

The blades of storm and stone are also a complete invention on my part. I came up with them because Susanowa needed to have weapons of his own and I thought they would suit his character. Ama Tsu Mara is real however, being the Shinto god of smiths. Who else would make a sword for a god?

Susanowa

As I mentioned at the end of the previous chapter Susanowa is the personification of evil in the Shinto hierarchy of gods. In his official capacity, so to speak, he's the god of winds, storms and the ocean – hence the setting in which he meets Shinta. Although he's a troublemaker most of the stories about him characterise him as annoying rather than genuinely evil. It's for that reason that I ended up making him one of the good guys here. The references in the story to his being clean shaven and missing his fingernails come from the fact that losing his beard and his fingernails was part of his punishment for harassing Amaterasu, his sister.

Shinta

Looking at Shinta/Kenshin's dialogue in this chapter he may seem a little more aggressive than he usually is. I think that's in keeping with the bitterness he might feel over what became of his life combined with the motivation that his new task has given him.

One more thing – if you want to learn more about the Shinto hierarchy of gods I strongly recommend , a great site for information on mythological beings from many cultures. It's been a valuable source of information for this story.

Kaoru's Rurouni Kenshin sanctuary was also very helpful for its guide to the techniques that comprise the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. And with this reload I've hopefully cleared up the confusion over which technique Kenshin uses in his fight with Susanowa. Geeze you people are picky! :)


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